Sicilienne
by Meta-Akira
Summary: Fingers paused, uncertainly arched midair above ivory keys. Why not replace the boredom with music?- Slow times at the Rainbird. Todd-centric, Very light Todd/Petunia


**Please look up "Sicilienne on the piano" on Youtube. It should be the first result. Listen to it at your leisure whilst reading.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **(~)**

Fingers paused, uncertainly arched midair above ivory keys.

In the silence following the echoes of an aria he'd finished, all that was left to fill the air was the quiet chink of spoons against china. The midafternoon lull of The Rainbird between the lunch rush and the after work rush meant that the small café was nearly empty, save for a couple patrons. There was little to do to occupy a waiter during this low point in the day, save for the gleaming grand piano that was pushed off into a corner of the small restaurant.

Why not replace the boredom with music?

A piece floated into his mind. Something of a modern classic. He'd remembered hearing it when he was young. France did craft some wonderful musicians, it seemed, and Gabriel Faure's composition had caught his attention.

His fingers, now with a purpose, slowly and softly began to stroke the keys, and the music began at a whisper, like the caress of a breeze. Within moments of the gentle tune flowing from the instrument, his scowl lessened and softened as he closed his eyes, imagining the sheet music before him.

Truthfully, he relished these moments. He lived for the quiet points at The Rainbird. He wasn't much of a people person anyways, to put it absolutely bluntly to anyone who hadn't grasped that within two minutes of meeting him. Waiting on tables grated on the last of his nerves, and that tended to turn into poor tips and Lacie threatening him with a glare that would terrify her dead husband from beyond the grave.

No, it was these times when business was slow where he would drum away at the keys of the baby grand in artful arpeggios and sweeping crescendos. He wouldn't be surprised if the only reason he kept his job (both of his choosing and Lacie's allowance) was because of his ability to play.

Filling the silence with music allowed his mind to clear. And he could hear himself think the loudest when the piano came alive under his touch. It satisfied some odd need within himself. What need? To create something enjoyable in contrast to his sour and, at times, outright abrasive personality? _Perhaps,_ he thought, with the slightest hint of self-deprecation.

But as much as he enjoyed this piece, it really wasn't complete when it was one single instrument on its own.

For some reason, Landon's quip about playing a duet together came to mind. And immediately following that, he absently wondered if Petunia knew how to play any instruments.

 _Probably not,_ he conceded, considering how clumsy and abrupt she tended to be about… well, everything. He scoffed at the very idea that he found that thought a tad bit disappointing. He'd never played an accompaniment in music before. Why would he trust that girl who was a hurricane of crises with something as delicate as music?

Why should he trust her at all?

Why does he?

His train of thought leads to a slight pause in the music, quickly amended ( _for effect_ ) as he continued, at a slightly louder volume at a slightly quicker pace, punctuating the otherwise gentle piece with a shot of emotion before a decrescendo brings him back to the soft tones from before. His mental stumble easily concealed, he allows himself to think more thoroughly about the matter.

How long had he trusted her? Certainly not their first meeting, or their second, if those could even qualify as such. The first was only him berating a boy for wasting his time. The second was only a boy yelling at him, every bit as lost in this city as he himself had been.

But the third meeting.

It was impossible, he assumed, to be dragged around by a small boy (girl?), pulled onto a bicycle, and take off, breakneck through a busy city after a purse snatcher and not end up trusting that person in some strange fashion. It was all to retrieve his wallet, after all. And so when the person had marched up to him, his wallet in hand, and blurted out a thanks for the coffee (which she'd never even finished), he just stared at her in open bewilderment. Somewhere in his shock, he mentioned his name. And as she stammered out some mixture of an apology and a (real) introduction, he couldn't help but smile at the first person who'd shown him legitimate kindness in this God-forsaken city.

" _What a strange girl…"_ he'd thought at the time.

Notes continued to pour from his hands as he reflected on how often that phrase had gone through his mind since Petunia had stumbled into his life. She was his opposite in so many ways, from appearances to the way she was so timid and yet bolder than he could ever remember being. They were like night and day.

And yet…

She'd saved his life. He would have probably ended up a corpse weighted down by concrete in some river had it not been for her deciding to go with a _hired killer_ to take down _multiple other hired killers_. She'd even told him not to worry, when the both of them were sitting amongst the crates in the dark warehouse. She told him she wasn't afraid. And she'd- God –she'd even confronted the man who was trying to hunt her down and shot him dead.

Granted, her face looked as though she could hardly believe it herself after the fact, but had he been the one holding that gun, he knew he wouldn't have been able to do it.

Again and again, it seemed like all of Melbourne was conspiring to thrust the two into the same outlandish circumstances, and after all of the insanity- Hana would call it _excitement_ , he thought with a sneer- it was kind of hard not to trust the girl he now knew as Petunia Elkwood.

How fate had decided that _they_ would be companions, of all people, he couldn't fathom. But as things were, he had to admit that he was lucky that it _was_ her of all people that he was stuck with. Because for some bizarre reason, she seemed to enjoy being with him… well, when she wasn't panicking over some miniature crisis or another. She took an interest in him and his life and looked up to him for God knew what reason.

So perhaps they were an odd couple. And perhaps "perhaps" was an understatement. However, he knew for a fact that there was no one in this blasted country whom he trusted more than Petunia Elkwood. And as he thought this, an idea came into his head.

A partnership. He hadn't accepted help from anyone before, concerning his… project. But the thought of Petunia assisting him appealed to him in a way that no one before her had. He could trust her enough to tell her the details. He certainly trusted her far more than Cyril. She'd confided in him that she'd recently lost her job… Surely, she needed to find a position quickly. He knew enough about her innate stubbornness by now that she would point blank refuse handouts. But this… Perhaps she would consider it.

As he began the gentle decrescendo of the final bars of the musical arrangement, a tiny smile came to his lips, effortlessly and without scorn. They probably could not play music together, but maybe they could participate in a different sort of duet.

 **(~)**

 **My, this section of Fanfiction dot net needs more love. Only a single page of Todd Allison fanfics? No, no, that will not do.**

 **I must admit, I was inspired to make this when I was listening to the version of Sicilienne from the soundtrack to an excellent anime called Hyouka.  
**  
 **Sicilienne was composed by Gabriel Faure in 1892. I imagine that Todd Allison perhaps grew up listening to it and eventually learned to play it.**

 **-Akira**


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